


Some nights

by Doodle_Famous



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodle_Famous/pseuds/Doodle_Famous
Summary: Alfred shouldn't work as hard as he does. Really, he should take more breaks.Also, if you want more, please comment that!
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), implied rusame - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Some nights

Maybe, just maybe, the sun wouldn’t come out that dawn. Clicking of ice scraping the side of a cold glass. Dew made around the outside dripped slowly down his char and calloused hand; still soft enough to be loving but firm in its hold. Arms scratched with scars that were from anyone- including himself- that dared attempt to fight the younger man. His free hand reaching back to brush through golden locks that looked perfect yet felt like they haven’t been washed in five days, which were closer to the truth than anything else.

The curtains were pushed aside to reveal the dull buildings down below them with twinkling lights of busy streets. Without his glasses, each car racing down below looked like a blur of red and white and grey. So close yet so far away. If only this large floor to ceiling window wasn’t in the way of him and the rest of the night. He craved to feel the gentle touch of the chill of new york nipping at his cheeks and neck.

His eyes slowly roam to where the sound of the bathroom door opening lead him. Steam floating out of the enclosed space and into the cold room. The person didn’t even look towards Alfred as she dressed. Grabbing the cash left out before turning and leaving the room. His sigh was broken and so tired. Only tired anymore really. Glancing back towards the window. Out towards the city. He missed being on the ground level. In the dirt and harsh sunlight that burned his skin to a golden tan; bringing out each delicate freckle painted across his cheeks and nose.

Again, the ice clanked noisily against the glass as it’s set down. The scotch he poured inside of it after everything was watered down and useless in his ever lucid dream to find something to stop his mind from running rampant. He stretched his too-long legs and arms, reaching far above him as he yawns deep from inside his soul. Naked feet pad their way slowly towards the shower for his own. Even as he discarded his robe, his mind wandered freely.

He remembers back then when the sky stretched high above him. Each minute a century as he skipped stones for lunch and tiled the fields for dinner. The bell-ringing loudly inside of his ears to call the cattle of children back home for a well earned hot meal that always made Alfred feel the exhaustion that each day brought. Curling into his sheets after everything and closing his eyes tight for a dreamless sleep when he could get it.

And now, he could barely sit still long enough to close his eyes. Which is fine anymore. He didn’t need to sleep that often if he just kept going as he did. Work, work, work, and even more work. Alfred was a sucker just to force himself to work even more and even harder until he passes out.

He shakes his hair out as he glares into the fogged over mirror. A hand that wipes away the mist over the reflection. As he did so, his stomach twists and lunges. What had he become? His face was pale from the constant office work that he forced himself into. Deep bruises of purple wrap and dull his once beautiful clear blue eyes. There was no sparkle, no life, nothing there anymore. What happened to the lively teen that everyone fawned over? What happened to his Hollywood charm and playboy face and the youth he prided himself on? 

Alfred couldn’t stomach seeing his face anymore. Twisting on his heels and storming over to his phone. He knew he needed to call someone, anyone. Not his brother, and not his parents, nor his friends. No, he needed someone to be angry at besides himself.

He needed Ivan.


End file.
